A/N: I'm so sorry for the delay! I've been so busy lately with work and hanging out with family that I've not had much time to write. Right now, it's after midnight and I'm using sleeping time for writing because I hate being behind on updates! Also, I'm going on vacation this week – I'm leaving Wednesday and won't be back until the following Tuesday. While I should have internet access where I'm going, I can't promise many updates because I'm going to be super, super busy in Florida (I'm going to Harry Potter World!), but I'll do what I can. ;) Thanks for the reviews and please keep it up! Enjoy!

Ransoming Emrys

Chapter Twenty-One

From the moment Arthur set foot on the mysterious Isle of the Blessed, he knew that something was very, very wrong. It wasn't the almost palpable air of magic that hung over the whole island – ancient and powerful magic beyond any that Arthur had ever encountered, except maybe with Merlin's raw, instinctual outburst during the fight with Morgause and Cenred's army. While the feel of intense mystical power did permeate his senses, that in itself didn't make him fearful. It was both terrifying and intoxicating, and he found himself drawn by the Isle. Somehow he knew that this was a place that few without magic had ever set foot on. He should be honored.

Instead he felt scared. Not that he would own up to it, of course, because as a prince – the crown prince of Camelot – he didn't get scared. That was what he tried to tell himself but he knew it was a lie. He was scared, and had been scared before, plenty of times. He didn't think, however, that he had been quite as terror-struck as the moment that he'd seen Merlin's still, bloody form huddled lifelessly in Gwaine's shaking arms.

Now, this was a different kind of fear, but no less frightening. A wave of foreboding cascaded through him, wrapping its cold fingers around his quickly palpitating heart. He hadn't moved since stepping onto the sacred ground of the Isle of the Blessed, instead choosing to look upon the ruins of what must have been a majestic castle, fear curdling in his chest. He knew, just knew, that there was something very dark, very evil, and very real on this island – something that didn't necessarily belong there but that was lying in wait for him and his party. It scared him more than he cared to admit.

The others could sense it too, he assumed, since no one, not even noble Lancelot nor impulsive Gwaine, dared to venture further just yet. Only Morgana seemed unfazed, choosing to walk calmly toward the ruins with a smooth, gliding gait. Arthur thought that she looked comfortable here, almost as if she knew where she was going. She turned, a bit annoyed, when she saw that no one was following her. Arthur was no coward, but he wasn't about to just walk into a trap, but she didn't seem to understand that. "Arthur," she said, her voice colder than the prince was used to. "Come on. What are you waiting for?"

Arthur glanced around, trading brief, concerned glances with Lancelot, Gwaine, and Percival. "Something…" he said, trying not to sound unsure of himself but failing miserably. "Something's not right," he admitted.

Morgana's eyes narrowed fractionally. "Merlin's life is at stake," she said, much more flippantly than Arthur would have liked. It was like the woman was using Merlin's condition to get Arthur to do what she wanted, which seemed to be running headlong into something that could potentially mean their deaths.

"I know that," Arthur snapped. "And I swear I'll do whatever I have to do to save him. But we have to think about this. If there's something out there that's against us, we'll have to outsmart it, or we'll be killed and Merlin will die, too."

Morgana was about to respond before her eyes grew wide and shifted toward the ruins. "You know what?" she said quickly, "you're absolutely right. We need to be logical." She paused. "I'll scout ahead, let you know when it's safe." She slipped away faster than Arthur could stop her.

"Damn," Arthur cursed. "Why does she have to be so stubborn?"

He made to go after her, despite knowing her well enough to believe she could hold her own, but was stopped by a hand on his arm. He spun to Lancelot, glaring. "What are you doing? I've got to stop her from getting herself killed!"

"Arthur," the black-haired warrior said seriously, his gaze sympathetic but firm. "There's something you should know."

Arthur's eyes turned to slits. "And what would that be, Lancelot?"

Lancelot took a deep breath, the eyes of Arthur, Gwaine, and Percival locked on him. Arthur could tell that the man was struggling with some sort of internal battle, more than likely trying to decide whether or not he should say what was on his mind. Irritated, Arthur demanded, "Speak! We've more important things to do than watch you fumble over your words."

Lancelot stared at him, all uncertainty gone. "Morgana," he said, "is not to be trusted. She's not your ally, nor Merlin's."

Arthur wondered if Lancelot knew that the words he spoke were bordering on treason. He couldn't go around accusing the king's ward of being disloyal! But something in the man's tone, his eyes, told Arthur that this wasn't just some cruel joke or attempt to sway Arthur into leaving Morgana. Lancelot believed what he was saying to be true.

But how could that be? It didn't make sense. "What are you talking about?"

Lancelot was dead serious as he spoke. "Merlin has spoken to me about this through his letters many times. Morgana is no friend of Camelot's – she is allied with the witch, Morgause, who is her half-sister, and seeks you and your father's downfall."

Arthur shook his head mutely, not willing to believe this. "No," he said hoarsely. "You're lying."

"That's not all."

"What more could there be?" Arthur hissed.

"She… Morgana is your father's daughter… your half-sister. She wants you dead so she can claim the throne for herself. I... I believe that she's led us into a trap."

Morgana had been more than eager to finally get this over with, lure Arthur and those pesky tagalongs into a trap, and finally – finally – have the traitor, Merlin, or Emrys, as she now knew, dead as well as his prince. But as soon as the boat stopped and they stepped onto dry land, the ancient magic of the Old Religion buzzing all around them, Arthur had halted, declaring that something wasn't right. Morgana was really beginning to hate that man's impeccable instincts.

But then there had been a flutter against her mind, Morgause contacting her. Her sister's words reverberated through the girl's head. There has been a change in plans, Morgana. Meet me, alone, as soon as you can, at the Altar.

And so she'd hurried away to meet Morgause, not sure she wanted to know what had gone wrong this time. Of all the things she could have imagined, though, she certainly didn't expect this – for Merlin being the one with power over life and death, the only one that could accomplish what they wanted. Something that they were sure they'd never convince him to do. Trade your life for Arthur's. No, Merlin was too loyal to do that.

"But," Morgause said, after telling her sister about the vision of the deceased Nimueh and the twist of fate, "perhaps there is another way. We may not be able to convince the boy to trade his life for the prince's, but what of the king? Surely Merlin has no love for Uther Pendragon, even if he is a traitor to magic."

Morgana smiled. "And then Uther will be dead…"

"And we can have the pleasure of killing the great Emrys and Once and Future King ourselves," Morgause finished, "seeing as they aren't going about their prophecies very effectively."

"Yes," Morgana smirked. "But Sister, can you promise me one thing?"

"Anything," the blonde witch said, placing loving hands on her sister's shoulders. "What is it you wish?"

"Merlin," Morgana hissed, face twisted into the very image of hate, eyes reflecting just how much animosity she felt toward the magical serving boy. "Let me have him, play with him, kill him."

Morgause looked like she might object – after all, killing the Emrys would be something legendary to accomplish – but nodded after a few moments of deep thought. "Of course, Sister," she said. "He has hurt you and this is your chance for revenge. I will not deny you the pleasure."

"Thank you," Morgana breathed, twisted pleasure in her tone. She furrowed her eyebrows. "Now what?"

"Now," Morgause said, voice once again dripping with self-confidence, "we take Merlin, bring him here, and let him watch as his whole world comes crashing down around his ears."

Morgana giggled a bit madly at the mention of those large, goofy ears and imagined Merlin's face contorted in pain. She wondered briefly when she had become so hardened but shrugged it off. She had more important things to worry about.

Revenge would taste so sweet.

A/N: Dun dun dun! Now, since this was a LONG wait and a SHORT chapter, I'll try to add another one before I leave for vacation, tomorrow or Tuesday, buy I can't promise anything. Please review, and I'll update as soon as I can! ;)

~Emachinescat ^..^